


Paw-sitively Domestic

by Kenkaya



Series: Miraculous Prompts [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Can Cook, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Married Life, Post-Series, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6322606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenkaya/pseuds/Kenkaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miraculous March Prompt- headcanon.</p>
<p>All but the closest of their friends were shocked whenever they learned Marinette didn’t cook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paw-sitively Domestic

Whether because she was a baker’s daughter or (more likely) due to her gender, all but the closest of their friends were shocked whenever they learned Marinette didn’t cook. Oh she was definitely capable of the task- she had a good comprehensive knowledge of the basics and could whip up a mean quiche (her mother’s special recipe!) if needed, she just didn’t often find the time or have energy to. Design school had been ruthless; the fashion industry even more so. Cooking quickly took a backseat to ‘getting these sketches done’ and ‘finishing this last hem.’

Honestly, Adrien was the only reason she probably hadn’t fainted from hunger yet. 

The same people shocked at her lack of time in the kitchen were usually scandalized when they learned her husband prepared most of their meals. Marinette supposed she could understand their reactions. A famous former model/business heir to one of the most esteemed fashion houses in France seemed a very unlikely candidate for attentive househusband. Against all expectations though, Adrien had embraced the role with gusto- going so far as to wear the solid black apron (tastefully embroidered with lime green paw prints) she made him one birthday as a gag gift. The dork even hung the thing on a “hook of honor” by the kitchen entrance when he wasn’t cooking. Marinette felt her pale cheeks flush red in secondary embarrassment every time she thought about it. 

She appreciated his efforts, though; very much. No matter how late she returned home, dinner was always ready and waiting. He kept their two-bedroom flat (while not always organized) clean, more or less. In the days leading up to Fashion Week, when her entire world revolved around the dash between office and studio, he made sure to send text reminders for her to, _‘Eat lunch me-now = ^_- =’_ or, _‘Nomore coffee take a catnap. =^-.-^zz’_ . Adrien never did grow past his penchant for cat puns. She constantly admonished him for them, but secretly, they never failed to make her smile. The cheeky tom knew it too.

“Adrien?” Marinette asked one early December evening, two years into their marriage. She had left the studio early, her workload having been particularly light that day, and walked through the door to the sizzling sounds and savory smells of her husband busy with dinner (wearing that damn silly apron too!). She was seated on a cushioned barstool now, leaning over the open counter separating their living room from the kitchen space, her hands wrapped around a red ceramic mug of hot chocolate. 

“Hm?” Adrien turned away from the vegetables sauteing on the stove to face his wife properly, messy blond hair falling into his eyes. She sat facing him from the opposite side of the open counter, a steaming cup in front of her and framed by snow falling softly outside the window behind her. Dark hair was piled high on her head in the simple messy bun she preferred while lounging at home. 

“I was just wondering,” Marinette began, fingertips tracing the lip of her mug. “It was slow at work today… and some of us started chatting to pass the time, you know? And, well, the subject came up… I was just wondering...”

“What subject?” Adrien prompted after her words trailed off. He returned his attention to the food briefly (just in time to remove a slightly smoking skillet from the burner) before focusing on his wife again. 

“About your cooking,” she elaborated.

“Oh?” He practically purred in response, green eyes twinkling playfully and a Chat-like grin firmly in place. “Was my lady bragging about how amazing her husband’s culinary skills are?”

“Not exactly,” Marinette sighed. The subject was hardly an unfamiliar one, but her new assistant, Gabrielle, made a comment this time around which ground her usual annoyance to an abrupt halt.

_“Wow! You managed to sweet talk Adrien Agreste into becoming your personal chef?! That’s amazing!”_

But, the truth was, their arrangement had never actually been discussed or planned. They simply fell into the routine (quite naturally) when she accepted his proposal and they moved into their first flat together. Marinette had been enrolled in a rigorous fashion program then: one that demanded far more outside studio-time than Adrien’s academic degree did. Microwave meals could only sustain them so long, and, before the first month was out, her then-fiance was running to the Dupain-Chengs’ for much needed cooking lessons. A pattern was established, Marinette graduated, they got married, and Adrien’s continued place in the kitchen went unquestioned. _Until now._

“I can cook sometimes too, you know,” she said. “Maybe pick up around the flat a bit more. It’s just… I really appreciate everything you do around here and… sometimes I get so caught up in work! We never talked about it before, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage…”

“Marinette,” he interrupted her verbal vomit, all mischief gone from his expression. “I don’t mind... really! Cooking is relaxing and I like doing it... kind of helps me wind down a bit after staring at my computer screen all day,” he reached up to scratch the back of his neck, the standard anxious-Adrien habit. “Cleaning up here and there gives me something to do during breaks too. My mind’s usually so wired when I’m writing… some repetitive action I don’t really have to think about really helps clear my head. So,” he flashed his wife a genuine smile, pulling a pair of black oven mitts over his hands as he spoke. “Don’t worry about it. You keep doing your thing and I’ll do mine. It works for us, so why change it?”

“Okay,” she whispered, watching as he opened the oven and removed a tray of brown glazed chicken breasts. “Just… don’t be shy! Let me know if you ever need some extra help. I can’t write your dissertation for you, but I know how to whip up a mean quiche!” 

“Oh, purr-incess,” he looked over his shoulder with cocked brow, Chat-grin in full force once more. “When have I ever been shy around you?” 

“Don’t make me get out the vacuum, chaton,” she shot back with a grin of her own.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts:
> 
> \- I picked the name Gabrielle for Marinette's assistant as a bit of a fashion joke since that was Coco Chanel's actual first name. There is another in-joke in **me** of all people using Chanel's name for a side character, but the reason's a bit personal and would only be noticed by someone who knew me in RL.
> 
> \- I purposely left Tikki and Plagg out of the narrative, since we don't know if the series will end with them keeping the Miraculous or not and I didn't want to step on canon much for this one. You can either imagine the kwami are no longer around, or that they're in another room during this discussion... either interpretation works!


End file.
